


Thought I Loved You, But It Was Just How You Looked In The Moonlight

by BadSideOf45



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24066187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadSideOf45/pseuds/BadSideOf45
Summary: Patrick Stump was failing at life.  But could a chance encounter at a tropical vacation change that?  Or make it worse?
Relationships: Gabe Saporta/Patrick Stump, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	Thought I Loved You, But It Was Just How You Looked In The Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at smut. Please be kind and enjoy.

It was late February, 2020, and Patrick Stump was living The American Dream.

Yeah right.

The Poverty-Level American Dream.

While rushing to get ready for work, Patrick glanced around the hovel he called home.

With the amount of rent he paid, you would think Patrick lived in a modest 3 bedroom house in a suburb of Chicago instead of a one bedroom apartment the size of a closet located on a street nearest to the closest L station on the outskirts of the city.

As he was hurrying out the door he found a note stuck on his door jamb. He scanned it twice, not believing his eyes.

As of the first of March, Patrick’s rent was going to go up by three hundred dollars a week.

Three hundred dollars he didn’t have.

Patrick also didn’t have time to deal with this now; he was late for work.

He was on his way to a nine-to-five (more like nine-to-whenever his boss felt like letting him leave) job in an ancient skyscraper located on the edge of Chicago’s skyline. 

Patrick ran up the steps and hopped on the L just as the doors were closing.

He spent the commute time watching the city fly by, still fascinated after all these years by its urban charm.

Once he departed the L he stopped at his regular Starbucks, stomping his feet on the rug just inside the door to rid them of the snow which had plagued Chicago for two months now.

“Same as usual, Sir?” The peppy college age girl asked from behind the register. 

Patrick closed his eyes, then counted to three. He just couldn’t handle “peppy” this morning.

“Yes, please, and could you please add an extra blueberry scone to my order?”

“Of course! That will be 12.87.” 

He pulled out his wallet and was disheartened to find he only had 2 one dollar bills. 

Knowing he shouldn’t add to his credit debt, Patrick threw caution to the wind and handed his (almost) overdrawn credit card to the barista.

“Should I put the scones in separate bags, Sir?” she inquired.

Patrick thought for a moment. He knew he was no Adonis, but was he really that pudgy?

Had this young girl worked out that he was about to go to a dead-end job in a windowless office where he would try and drown out his troubles with two blueberry scones and a Grande Mocha Frappuccino?

‘You know what?’ Patrick thought. ‘Who am I fooling?’

“One bag will be fine,” he replied frowning as he lifted his chin, silently challenging her to say something about his choice.

Patrick had never seen someone put two scones in a bag so fast in his life.

******************************************

Patrick rode up the creaky elevator to the fifth floor, praying that he would reach it with no unexpected stops between floors. (Yes it had happened before and YES, he was mildly claustrophobic.

The doors thankfully opened on the correct floor, revealing a young man seated at a small wooden desk as well as two loveseats along the walls.

“Good Morning, Mr. Stump. Mr. Beckett was just looking for you,” Ryan informed him, smirking slightly.

Patrick knew the young man was being fucked by his happily married “straight” boss every lunch hour in his office, but self-preservation made him hold his tongue.

“Thank you, Ryan. I’ll go find him after I put these down on my desk.” Patrick said as he held up his Starbucks order for Ryan to see.

He started walking down the hall towards his office, barely catching the snarky remark the young man muttered under his breath.

“Yeah, like you REALLY need all that sugar.”

Patrick set his coffee and scones on his desk and turned to take off his coat and hat. 

As soon as they were hanging on his coat rack, the phone rang.

Damn that Ryan.

Patrick picked up his office phone. “Hello?”

“Stump! Get your ass down to my office right now! We need to discuss an important matter that has cropped up,” William Beckett shouted down the phone. 

“Yessir,” Patrick said before hanging up the phone.

He hadn’t even had a chance to sit down yet.

******************

The whole way down the hall Patrick tried to decide what could be so important that he had to see the boss immediately.

He was a Customer Service Representative - what could he possibly have screwed up?

Patrick arrived at the door and knocked once. Before he could knock again, the door flew open and his boss dragged him in, shutting the door behind him. 

“Have a seat, Stump,” William said as he sat down.

Patrick walked toward the threadbare chairs across from his boss’ desk and sat down in the one nearest the door.

Beckett stared at Patrick and shook his head.

“Stump, your ratings have plummeted. Our feedback on your performance has been sub-par. We strive to give the customers of the companies we represent the best service.”

Patrick was floored. He always made a concerted effort to be polite to the customer and to lend them a sympathetic ear. He, above all, tried to resolve their issue in a timely manner.

“Mr. Beckett, sir, I don’t understand this development. I have tried my hardest to remedy every single customer's complaints.”

William frowned and pulled out a stack of papers. “The customer feedback is perfectly clear. I’m afraid you either need to improve your phone etiquette, or you might need to explore other avenues of employment.”

Patrick hung his head. “Sorry to let you down Mr. Beckett. I’ll definitely try harder from now on.”

Patrick was rising to leave when William cleared his throat.

“One more thing, Patrick.”

“ There has been some talk around the office about your...personal life. While I myself am not homophobic, I think it’s best if your “friend” no longer calls you at the office.” 

“It is making some of the other employees uncomfortable”

‘You fuck your male secretary on this very desk every day during lunch!’ is what Patrick wanted to say.

Is what Patrick SHOULD have said.

Instead, Patrick mumbled an apology while seething inside.

“Thank you Mr. Stump. You may go.”

Patrick was excused with a shooing wave of his boss’ hand.

***************************************

Patrick sat down at his desk, still pissed off. Some asshole at his work had been listening in on his and Gabe’s private conversations.

Well, he would put a stop to that ASAP.

Patrick pulled out his cell phone and hid it under his desk, typing out a quick message to his boyfriend.

P - Boss on the rampage - do not call me at work anymore!!

He had a reply almost immediately.

G - Oh, Baby, no more sweet talking? Okay, I won’t, but remember dinner tonight at your place - it’s your turn to cook!!

Patrick leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had forgot all about his promise to cook dinner. Hopefully his boss would let him leave at a decent hour.

P - 8:00 - See you then?

G - With bells on!!

Patrick just shook his head at the reply, placed the headset on top of his head, and answered the first call of his work day.

*******************************

Fortunately, Patrick’s boss let him leave at six p.m. That gave him barely enough time to get home and prepare a small dinner before Gabe arrived. 

As he rode the L he thought about his tall, dark and handsome boyfriend. Born in Uruguay, he could speak Spanish fluently, which was a big turn on for Patrick, especially in bed. 

He was much older than Patrick, and could be very bossy whenever he was grumpy (also a turn-on). 

Patrick was surprised that he was able to catch the eye of such a man. Patrick knew he was a short, balding ginger who never lost his baby fat and dressed like a sixty year old man.

He had met Gabe at a club downtown, and when Gabe had come on to him, his face had turned red and he had nearly choked on his drink. 

Gabe took Patrick to his apartment immediately, on the premise that he had to make sure the young man didn’t choke to death in the middle of the night.

Instead of watching Patrick for signs of respiratory distress, Gabe sucked him off and then fucked him through the mattress.

The next day Gabe asked Patrick for his number, and to Patrick’s surprise and delight, called him two days later.

They had been together for two years tomorrow and were still going strong. 

Patrick hurried from the L station and walked up two flights of stairs to his (now) too expensive apartment. 

He was so excited about Gabe coming over and his anniversary the next day that he decided to put off brooding about his financial troubles for a short time.

Now all that was left was to shower, make dinner and wait for Gabe.

*****************************************************

Patrick’s doorbell rang at exactly 9:30 p.m.

Patrick was extremely pissed.

He knew Gabe couldn’t blame it on his job, because Gabe was self-employed as a record producer and made his own hours.

When Patrick opened the door, Gabe rushed in full of apologies, hands full of flowers and chocolates.

“I’m so sorry Babe! I forgot I promised to lay down tracks for this new group and the session just ran over.”

“I tried to text and call you - you never answered.” Patrick replied.

“Oh, well, you know I like to turn off my phone while I’m working. Here these are for you!” He shoved the flowers and chocolates at Patrick.

Yellow daisies and Lindt Milk Chocolate Truffles - his favorite.

“Thank you..” Patrick leaned up to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. As Gabe turned his head, Patrick spotted a tell-tale reddish purple mark under Gabe’s right ear.

A spot he knew was one of Gabe’s “hot” spots.

And Patrick knew he definitely did not make it.

Patrick backed away quickly from Gabe, throwing the flowers and chocolates as hard as he could back at the taller man.

“You cheating bastard! I know I didn’t leave that mark there! Was it one of your new acquisitions at work?” 

Gabe looked everywhere but in Patrick’s eyes. 

“Let’s sit down, Patrick.”

“No.” Patrick replied, crossing his arms and planting his feet. “If you have something to say to me, go ahead and say it.”

Gabe’s shoulders fell. He looked into Patrick’s eyes with something akin to pity.

“I’m sorry, Babe. I should have told you a long time ago, but you were so lonely...I just couldn’t do that to you.”

“I’ve been seeing a guy I met while standing in line for coffee one day.”

“We were complaining about the line, and then the next thing I knew we were sitting down chatting, both of us amazed by what we have in common.”

“Then one thing led to another, and, well, Patrick, I think I’m in love with him.”

Patrick’s heart dropped down to the soles of his feet.

“How long?” he said quietly.

Gabe looked at him, a look of shame spread over his face. “Six months. He knew all about you, and this morning gave me an ultimatum. Him or you.”

“I’m sorry, Patrick. You really are a great guy. I know some lucky guy will come along -”

Patrick turned and walked to his front door, jerking it open. 

“Get the fuck out and never come back.”

Gabe walked slowly past his former lover.

“I’m truly sorry Patrick. I know you don’t believe it now, but I am.”

Patrick kept quiet until Gabe reached the apartment staircase.

“Oh, and Gabe, lose my number. Permanently.”

Patrick re-entered the apartment and closed the door.

He headed to the small kitchen and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a wine goblet.

Yes, he knew he should be drinking from a glass tumbler, but if he was going to get hammered, he was going to do it in style.

Thank God tomorrow was Saturday. Patrick knew with the kind of bender he was planning, he’d need at least two days to recover.

**********************************************

Patrick woke up in his boxers, a pool of drool/vomit near him on the cold bathroom tiles beside his toilet. Because the room was so small, his head was beside the toilet, while his stockinged feet were out in the living room.

The cold from the snow outside had creeped through the cracks of the old apartment building, causing all of his extremities to feel like icicles.

Patrick opened both eyes and sat up slowly, his head pounding like a loud marching band drum playing enthusiastically while in an amphitheater.

He heard a distant chime. That must have been what had stirred him awake. 

He crawled on his hands and knees to his cell phone, which he located eventually in the front pocket of his jeans.

He unlocked the screen to first check the time.

Saturday, 8:00 p.m.

Holy Smokes - a new record! Patrick had never been blackout drunk for that long before.

Next, he checked his messages.

No missed calls.

No missed texts.

Wow. Ouch. But he had told Gabe to lose his number…

After Patrick got himself a glass of water and some aspirin, he climbed on the bed, checking his email. 

He had three new email messages.

MESSAGE 1 - From William Beckett 

Patrick - I noticed some discrepancies in the reports you handed in this past week. I’m gonna need you to come in at 7:00 a.m. on Monday so we can straighten all this out. See you then.

Asshole. ASSHOLE!!

Patrick grabbed his head in pain. Okay - no more yelling at imaginary bosses while hungover.

MESSAGE 2 - From Becky Thayer, Manager Pruitt Properties 

Dear Mr. Stump, I hope this letter finds you well. Our records show that you haven’t replied to the letter we left with you 48 hours ago, on the 28th of February. Just a friendly reminder that the increase in rent will be due along with your regular rent payment effective 01 March 2019.  
Wishing you all the best, Becky.

Patrick jumped off his bed and raced to his laptop, located on the coffee/kitchen table. 

“C’mon, c’mon…” Patrick muttered as the ancient thing booted up. 

Patrick logged on and quickly accessed his bank’s website. He put in his account number and password.

Oh.

Oh shit.

He rubbed his eyes, hoping the numbers in front of him would somehow magically increase.

CHECKING: $110.00  
SAVINGS: $900.00  
AVAILABLE CREDIT ON CREDIT CARD: $500.01

Patrick’s rent now was $850.00 a month. If he dipped into savings, he would have enough to scrape by during March.

But what about April?

May?

The rest of the year?

For the first time in forever, Patrick Stump was scared. 

Really really terrified.

He had tried to budget for various scenarios, but now this whole rent situation had thrown him for a loop.

Patrick guessed he could find a room to rent, but that would mean sharing a living room, a kitchen, and even a bathroom (God forbid) with other people.

Strangers.

Total strangers.

Or, even worse, he could run back home to his mother, proving her prophecy of his inability to survive in the “Big City” to be 100% true.

That, he decided quickly, was not an option.

Panicked and dejected, Patrick placed his head on the palm of his right hand, phone still clenched in his left.

His phone.

One more email notice shone up at him, beckoning to him to open it and read.

He pushed the button.

MESSAGE 3 - 

Greetings and Salutations from Sunny Jamaica!! We have received your name as a person who would possibly like to take part in a once in a lifetime opportunity! We are currently opening a new resort on a previously untouched part of the Jamaican Beachside, and need people such as yourself to try it out, give us some feedback!

Patrick rolled his eyes.

Great, another ad for something he didn’t need.

He continued to read.

You will enjoy a week long all inclusive vacation for one in Sunny Jamaica at a Brand New Secluded Adults Only Resort!! 

Amenities include:  
Round trip airfare  
Transportation to and from the airport to the resort  
Beautiful room on the beach  
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner included  
Free drinks for every day of your stay  
Nightclub with DJ every evening  
Fun adult-themed activities  
Beach Service  
Toiletries  
Bottled water

If this sounds like Paradise to you, just give us a call here at 1-888-444-333 and ask for the Special Guest package at the Encantadora Resort.  
Oh, the price you ask? All this, and more, for only $1000.00 USD.  
Hope to see you soon in Sunny Jamaica!

At the bottom of the advertisement was a beautiful picture of a sunset over a pristine beach, a pair of lovers walking along the shore.

Patrick looked at his bank account, and then back at the advertisement.

‘What the hell,’ thought Patrick. ‘You only live once.’

“Hello, Encantadora Resort? I’d like one Special Guest Package, please…”

*************************************************

Patrick hated flying.

Despised, loathed, and abominated flying.

But with the luck which had been plaguing him lately, he just had to get a last minute seat beside THE most annoying man in the world.

“Scared to fly?” the man had asked when he noticed Patrick’s death grip on their shared arm rest.

“No, scared of crash landings,” said Patrick flatly.

“Look on the bright side - if we go down, it’ll most likely be in the ocean, and we’ll have a better chance of survival!”

The guy grinned widely. 

Who the in bloody hell WAS this weirdo?

Patrick took a second to really look at the man beside him. 

He was irritating, but he wasn’t too terrible to look at.

Who was he kidding? The guy was flat-out gorgeous.

He had been graced with golden skin, laughing whiskey-colored eyes, and a large smile that was created by a set of full lips.

Patrick realized he was staring, so he continued his perusal down the other man’s body. More of the golden skin was on display at his neck and collarbone, and - was that a tattoo peeking out from his collar? 

Patrick was reflecting on whether or not the stranger had rock-hard abs when he heard the other man speak.

“Excuse me?” Patrick said. “I missed that.”

The stranger grinned wickedly and leaned into Patrick’s personal space..

“I said, take a picture, it will last longer, but if you keep looking at me like that, we can try and join the Mile-High Club in the toilet…” he whispered seductively.

“Well, I never…” Patrick sputtered indignantly, his face turning bright red from being caught red-handed by this outspoken intruder.

The other man laughed. “Well that’s quite obvious, from the way you reacted…”

This caused Patrick to blush more.

The man held his hand out towards Patrick. “My name is Pete. Pete Wentz.”

Patrick looked at the man’s hand and then back up to the Cheshire-cat grin of it’s owner.

“My name is Nunya. As in Nunya Business.” 

As he leaned as far away from Pete as he could and placed his fedora on his face, Patrick heard one last whisper.

“Nice to meet you too, Patrick Stump.”

The boarding pass he had handed to the flight attendant to prove ownership of his current seat.

Damn.

He could only hope Pete Wentz was going anywhere but Jamaica.

*********************************************

If it wasn’t for bad luck, Patrick would have no luck at all.

Not only was Pete now in Jamaica along with Patrick (an unfortunate coincidence), he also was sitting next to the only seat available on the bus to the resort.

‘Great, just fantastic,’ Patrick groaned under his breath.

Patrick sat in the empty seat, turning to face the aisle so he wouldn’t have to interact with Pete.

The bus driver looked in his rear view mirror shaking his finger directly at Patrick.

“Eh! Feet tucked under the seat in front of you. Safety First!

Pete snickered. “I think I remembered hearing something like that in my seventh grade Health class. It involved a condom and a banana if I recall…”

Patrick blushed and turned to punch Pete in the arm.

“Will you please cut it out? Or did your mom teach you it was okay to act like a twelve year old at all times?”

Pete just smiled widely. “But it’s just so much fun to torture you Tricky.”

Before Patrick had a chance to protest the nickname the bus jerked forward, on its way to the resort.

*************************************

“This is gonna be a long ride. The first half isn’t bad, but the last half is torture.”

Patrick turned to look at Pete, who had been sitting quietly in his seat for ten minutes.

“You’ve been here before?”

Pete nodded his head. “Once or twice.”

He continued. “I’m supposed to meet my family for St. Patrick’s Day dinner. They like me to check in every so often.” 

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Saint Patrick’s Day?”

Pete lightly elbowed Patrick. “We’re American - don’t judge.”

“Anyway, I told them a little white lie, like I was married, and now it’s come around to bite me in the ass.”

Patrick put two and two together quickly.

“So, you’re here to find a bride?”

“Or groom..” Pete said while giving Patrick the side eye.

“Oh-oh no no no. I’m not your guy. I’m really not interested.”

Pete silently contemplated Patrick.

“It’s okay - I’m bisexual. My parents know it.”

Patrick rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t care if you’re Liberace reincarnated living in a million dollar mansion. Unless you have an endless trust fund in your bank account, I’m not interested. Sorry.”

Patrick turned back to face the front of the bus.

Another ten minutes rolled by.

Pete looked out the window and thought out loud.

“I don’t have a trust fund, but I have some money I inherited from my Gramps a couple months ago. It’s only ten thousand dollars, but - “

That got Patrick’s attention.

He may not be able to live in Chicago anymore, but that was enough money to allow him to start over somewhere else.

He bit his lip and thought long and hard. He clandestinely checked his cell phone.

Job - Fired.

Apartment - Evicted.

Bank Account - Overdrawn.

Patrick gave a deep sigh and turned to Pete.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but just a marriage in name only, no funny business?”

Pete shot Patrick a mega-watt smile.

“A marriage in Jamaica isn’t recognized by the U.S., nevertheless a gay/bisexual one.” 

“Ten thousand dollars, a month long marriage, no strings attached.”

Pete nodded.

Patrick put out his hand for Pete to shake. “It’s a deal.”

Pete slung his arm around Patrick’s shoulders.

“Patrick, come the day after St. Paddy’s Day, I promise you will be as free as a bird.”

Just from Pete’s touch, Patrick’s skin tingled, raising up in goose bumps. 

Patrick was extremely screwed.

******************************************

Pete dragged Patrick to the nearest courthouse the minute the bus stopped for more fuel at the halfway point.

Patrick would have been charmed by the small, cozy Spanish-influenced courthouse if he hadn’t been caught up in the whirlwind that was Pete Wentz.

“Come on - we’ve only got 30 minutes before the bus leaves again!” Pete explained as he pulled Patrick out of the courthouse and down to the adjacent church.

“Well, it’s nice to see romance isn’t dead in Jamaica…” Patrick deadpanned.

At the church Pete and Patrick stood at the altar, two of the priest’s family members serving as witnesses.

They awkwardly faced each other and exchanged vows.

For better or worse.

For richer or poorer.

In sickness and health.

Until death do us part.

“You may now kiss your partner,” the priest smiled at the two men.

Pete smiled widely at Patrick as the latter blushed.

The kiss, chaste and short, was initiated by Pete.

Pete and Patrick shook the priest’s hand, and signed the marriage certificate.

Before the ink was dry, Pete was once again dragging Patrick back down the street towards the bus.

They were the last ones to board the bus, and the driver just waggled his finger at them and shook his head.

The men fell into their seats, sharing a conspiratorial giggle. 

Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump-Wentz belonged to each other.

For now.

******************************************************

“But Trickster,” Pete whined. “We have to share a room. We’re married now!”

Patrick looked around the lobby of the resort, particularly at the other guests behind them in line waiting (somewhat) patiently.

“Darling,” Patrick said through clenched teeth, “Can we step to the side and discuss it please? These nice people are waiting.”

A disgruntled murmur was heard throughout the line.

Pete leaned over and placed a kiss on Patrick’s neck, below his ear.

“Ten thousand dollars…” he sing songed.

Patrick blushed. 

“May we please have the key card for the room rented under the name Pete Wentz?” he hurriedly said.

Pete whispered in his ear once again.

“Didn’t know you were so easy, Trickster.”

Patrick grabbed Pete’s arm and yanked him towards the row of golf carts lined up ready to take guests to their rooms.

The driver placed their luggage on the back as Pete and Patrick climbed into the back seat. 

Pete called out their room number, then proceeded to lay his arm across Patrick’s shoulders, cuddling the smaller man into his side.

Patrick frowned deeply. “If you even think about making a joke about the back seat, I’ll cut your balls off.”

“Easy and fiesty. I like it,” Pete grinned as he took in the scenery.

Patrick wouldn’t admit it, but he kind of liked having the warmth of Pete against the side of his body.

Kind of.

*******************************************

Patrick’s mouth was hanging open.

Literally.

“Mouth closed. You are not a cod fish, Patrick Stump,” Pete laughed as he quoted Mary Poppins.

Patrick had expected a cute Motel Six type room located on a shared beach with the rest of the adults staying at the resort.

But this, this was something else.

Something entirely different.

The small house/hut contained not only a large living room/dining room combo, but a real kitchen.

But what lay outside the patio doors was the cause of Patrick’s slack jaw. 

The floor-to-ceiling glass doors could be pushed back into pockets in the walls, thus allowing access to the patio and the totally private beach beyond, complete with comfy looking beach loungers.

Pete picked up Patrick’s hand and led him into the bedroom. 

The same glass doors were in here as well, allowing a refreshing ocean breeze to blow over them while they were sleeping.

Or other things.

Patrick turned and looked at the singular bed in the room.

It looked comfortable. 

And big.

“Holy shit! The bathroom’s huge!” Pete yelled excitedly from behind a door located near Patrick.

Patrick entered the room cautiously.

There was a rain shower big enough for two people in one corner of the room, along with a double vanity and toilet running along the opposite wall.

In the other corner, however, was his new husband lounging in a very large bathtub.  
with his head lolling on the edge.

“Come sit in the tub with me! I want to see if we can both fit!” Pete wiggled his eyebrows and crooked his finger at Patrick.

Patrick slowly backed out of the bathroom and went in the living room, sitting down heavily on the pastel couch.

What had he done?

******************************************************

Dinner time arrived a short while later, and Patrick begged off going to the main building, citing a headache. 

Pete called room service and ordered up a light supper, all the while hovering over his new husband like a mother hen.

“Can I get you anything? Aspirin? A bottle of water? I hope you’re not dehydrated…”

The more Pete talked, the worse Patrick’s headache got.

When it arrived, dinner was shared over awkward silence.

Afterwards, Patrick wandered down to the water’s edge, sitting on one of the loungers.

They felt like heaven.

Patrick laid back and closed his eyes, taking off his hat and laying his forearm over the top of his head.

Pete could already see he had already married a short, round gnome-like man, but Patrick was sure he’d run for the hills if he saw the balding spot on his head.

Just a few weeks, then ten thousand dollars would be his. 

Not a bad pay day for marrying the hottest guy he’d ever seen, let alone been with.

He felt a hand land lightly on his shoulder.  
“Hey. Come to bed. You need sleep.”

Patrick opened his eyes and stared up into the brown eyes of his new husband, which reflected the glow of the lights illuminating the patio behind them.

Patrick quickly placed his hat on his head.

“You go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”

Pete just nodded and stood up straight, turning and walking toward the bedroom doors.

So gorgeous. So sweet. 

So out of his league.

**************************************************

Patrick took his pajamas into the bathroom to change. 

He had noticed on his way there that Pete was already sitting up in bed.

He was naked from the waist up.

Patrick changed into his pajamas and willed away the erection which had slowly started to stir in his pants. 

Pete not only had one tattoo, but several, all over his arms and chest.

And who knows where else.

Patrick tried to think of depressing things, but all he could think of at the moment was the way Pete’s skin would taste under his tongue.

He wanted to trace every single tattoo, scar, marking on Pete Wentz’s body.

Using only the tip of his tongue.

Patrick counted backwards from one hundred with his eyes closed. When he hit thirty-two, he decided he was in a fit state to reenter the bedroom.

Pete looked up from his phone, frowning a little.  
“I thought you might have gotten lost in there. Is your headache any better?”

Patrick, just nodded, too busy trying not to drool all over himself at the sight of his husband’s taught, tan chest.

“I promise I won’t bite you,” Pete said, spurring Patrick out of his daze and into the bed with Pete.

He wasn’t brave enough to look under the covers, so he laid on his side as far away from Pete as he possibly could without falling off.

Pete chuckled.

“Don’t I at least get a goodnight kiss on the first night of my honeymoon?”

Patrick rolled over and pecked Pete on the cheek. “Good night.”

He rolled back over to his side of the bed.

Patrick heard Pete turn off the bedside lamp and get settled into the bed for the night.

“Good night Patrick.” Pete whispered.

Patrick was relieved Pete made no mention of the beanie he had worn to bed.

*************************************************

Patrick was having the most delicious dream.

He was dreaming of a man with sun-kissed skin, jovial eyes, and a wicked sense of humor.

But neither of them were laughing right now.

The beautiful man was in the middle of giving Patrick the most incredible blow job he had ever had.

Patrick sighed loudly and smiled, looking down lovingly at the man.

The stranger pulled off his member.

“You’re perfect. Every inch of you. I love you so much. Come for me, Sugar.”

Patrick couldn’t hold back. 

He threw his head back and came down the other man’s throat, fingers running through the man’s hair in a loving manner.

“I love you,” Patrick whispered to the stranger.

“Okay, but could you keep the sex noises down? I’m trying to sleep over here.”

Patrick’s eyes flew open.

He had dreamt the whole thing.

Well, except for the ejaculation part.

That was now making a huge wet stain on the front of his pajamas.

Patrick threw the covers back and flew out of bed.

He headed into the bathroom and stripped off his pajama pants and boxer briefs, using a wet washcloth to clean himself up.

Patrick turned to grab the door handle, but froze.

He had two problems.

Not only was he naked from the waist down with his clothes in the other room with Pete, but more importantly, his beanie was gone from his head.

Patrick tried not to panic.

Key word being tried.

He looked around the bathroom until he found two towels. He put one around his waist and draped the other over his head.

Feeling smug, he opened the door and marched triumphantly into the bedroom.

Pete was up on one elbow staring at him, complete with hooded eyes and bed hair.

The covers were pooled around his lower hips.

His collarbone tattoo was now on full display, along with what looked like a bat of some sort hovering above his happy trail. 

Patrick could now definitely tell Pete was lying in their bed naked.

“What’s wrong? Is it your headache again? Is there anything I can do to help?”

His voice was low and gravelly from sleep.

Patrick swallowed hard.

He tried to subtly loosen the towel around his waist, which had become increasingly more restraining in the groin area. 

“No,” Patrick yelped out in an octave two ranges above his own.

He cleared his throat and started again.

“No, I just had to straighten out some things in the bathroom. Go back to sleep.”

Pete reached out for him, causing the covers to shift lower.

“Come back to bed. I’m getting chilly without you…”

Patrick started counting backwards from 100 again.

“Pete, I’m begging you. Please turn around and go back to sleep.”

Pete flipped on his stomach and faced the opposite wall. 

“You’d think he’d realize I’ve seen a penis before since I own one…” Pete muttered as he drifted off to sleep.

Patrick ran to his suitcase and threw on a new pair of boxer briefs before jumping into the bed.

‘No Funny Business’ was going to be harder than he thought.

******************************************

Patrick awoke the next day to the sound of splashing in the waves. He yawned and stretched before rolling out of bed. 

It looked as if Pete had once again ordered room service for breakfast.

And half the food appeared to be missing.

Patrick went back into the bedroom, changed into his swimming suit and a white t-shirt, grabbed a glass of juice and a muffin, and began to head out to the little beach.

Remembering his hat, he ducked back in quickly to retrieve it.

After finishing his breakfast on the beach lounger, Patrick laid back, put on his sunglasses, and watched his new husband swim around in the water. 

“I have a very hard time believing you couldn’t find anyone to marry you. I mean, have you seen yourself lately?”

Pete looked over at him, floating in the ocean and allowing the waves to carry him to shore.

“It’s not always about looks, you know. People can have other faults.”

Patrick thought about this for a moment. “Such as?”

Pete put on a charming smile, stood up, and walked slowly towards his husband.

He was aware of how damn hot he looked, with his board shorts slung low on his hips showing off that tempting bartheart tattoo.

He shook the water out of his short hair which, surprisingly, began to curl at the ends.

Patrick hadn’t noticed that before, but on Pete it looked sexy as hell,

“Patrick, we need to learn a little about each other so we can make it through my family’s dinner without tripping on one of our untruths.”

“You mean lies.”

Pete shrugged. “Potato, Potahto.”

He laid down on the other beach lounger, looking like a bronze god in all his glory.

“Childhood through today - go,” Pete said, eyes closed.

Patrick thought for a moment. “I was born in Wilmette, Illinois April 27 1984. My mom’s name is Patricia and my dad is David. They divorced when I was young, and my Dad moved to the west coast. I have two siblings older than me - Kevin and Megan. I never went to college - we couldn’t afford it. I moved to Chicago and got a job as a customer service rep after graduating high school. I’ve been there ever since.”

Patrick looked over at his new husband.

“Your turn, Pete.”

Pete turned toward Patrick, a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. 

“I was born in Wilmette, too, on June 5, 1979 to Dale and Peter Wentz. I also have two siblings, Hillary and Andrew, but I’m the oldest. I graduated high school and attended DePaul University studying PolySci. I got myself in a bit of trouble a year before I was set to graduate, and I just never went back.”

Patrick stared at Pete. “Never went back? Why the hell would you squander such a golden opportunity? I mean, you’d have to be nuts not to finish -”

Pete stood abruptly. “Lunch is soon, and I want to get to the main resort building to try a wider selection of Jamaican food. If you want to come with, you’re welcome to.”

Patrick just shook his head no.

“Suit yourself.”

Pete turned on his heel and marched into the bedroom, where Patrick could hear the bathroom door shut.

Patrick faced the ocean, wondering what he had said to upset Pete so much.

He felt uneasy allowing Pete to leave unhappy.

Patrick waited for Pete on the sofa, wringing his hands and watching the bedroom door intently.

When the door opened, Patrick was taken aback.

Pete was dressed in a too tight t-shirt, cut short so anyone and everyone could see the tattoo above his low-slung shorts. 

He had put product in his hair - it was once again straight and shiny.

His husband looked, Patrick realized, like he was on the prowl.

‘He’s not Gabe. He’s not Gabe,” Patrick kept repeating to himself as he watched Pete stride confidently across the room.

He paused in the open door.

“Don’t wait up,” Pete carelessly threw over his shoulder before he shut the door.

Patrick stared at the closed door, speechless for once in his life.

‘Pete’s a free man. He’s not really mine.’

The thought shouldn’t have hurt Patrick as much as it did.

**************************************

Patrick startled awake.

He had put on his pajamas and waited for Pete to return.

He never did.

Patrick must have fallen asleep on the couch.

He sat up straight and rubbed his eyes, feeling around for his glasses at the same time.

The room had gotten dark and the moonlight reflecting on the waves was casting ominous shadows all over the walls of the living room.

Something had woken him - he wondered what it had been.

And then saw him.

He was sitting in the chair opposite Patrick, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, staring at him.

“Pete,” Patrick began, “I’m -”

Pete held his hand up and shook his head.

“I have a mental illness. You have a right to know that. It’s called Bipolar Disorder, and it means that I have periods of terrific highs as well as terrifying lows.”

“I try to take my meds every day, but sometimes even getting out of bed is too much for me to handle. When I miss doses, the mood swings only get worse.”

Pete continued, eyes meeting Patrick’s from time to time.

“That’s why my parents want to see me married so badly. They think if I settle down, my partner will take care of me and help stabilize me.”

“Married - what a joke.” Pete scoffed. “I was known around my high school and college as a “fuck and run” kind of guy. No one kept my interest that long.”

“Either that or they got tired of my bullshit.”

“My longest relationship was two years, and the only reason I was with her that long was because she got pregnant.”

Patrick blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to process what Pete was telling him.

“Bet you never figured I had a kid.” Pete laughed. “A six year old boy named Banksy, after the graffiti artist. He was the light of my life.”

“Was?” Patrick asked quietly.

Pete sighed loudly, running his hands over his eyes.

“His mother got tired of the constant cyle of fighting and fucking we had fallen into, so she left with my son and sued for full custody, which of course the court granted.”

Patrick twisted his hands in his lap. “Pete…”

“I tried to commit suicide not once, but twice. Once while I was in college, then later, after Banksy was born. In both situations I felt too... overwhelmed.”

“So you see, my dear husband, I may look hot as fuck on the outside, but my brain will always be just one big jumble of self-deprecation and hate.”

Pete took a deep breath and relaxed back into his chair, eyes trained on Patrick, as though he expected the other man to bolt from the couch at any minute.

Patrick sat silently, looking down at the hands in his lap.

“I need the money desperately.”

“I’m homeless, kicked out of my apartment because of a rent increase on a shitty one bedroom I could barely afford in the first place.”

“I got fired from my job because some asshole at my work decided to out me to my boss, so he fired me under the guise of poor performance.”

Pete leaned forward, so he could better hear the soft spoken man.

“I never had a steady boyfriend in high school. No one wanted to date let alone have sex with a glasses-wearing nerd with an affinity for Bowie and a quickly growing bald spot.”

“My one and only boyfriend was a one night stand that lasted for two years.”

Patrick paused to swallow down the lump in his throat.

“He told me he’d been cheating on me for six months, and his lover had given him an ultimatum.”

Patrick looked at Pete with sad eyes.

“I mean, look at me. Fat, bald, short and ugly. No one would choose me.”

The room was silent and still for a few minutes, both men listening to the gentle lapping of the waves outside on the shore.

“I chose you.”

Patrick turned his head toward Pete, a quizzical expression on his face. “What?” he whispered.

“I chose you.” Pete continued. “The minute you sat down in the seat next to me on the plane I knew you were special.”

“I was an asshole. I was awful to you,” Patrick admitted.

Pete smiled. “You were charming, and you kept up with my dry wit.”

“I’m using you to get the money I need to start my life over.”

Pete moved to sit on the coffee table directly across from Patrick.

“I choose to see it as money well spent on good company for a few weeks.”

Patrick leaned closer, almost closing the gap between his face and Pete’s.

“I’m bossy in bed.”

Pete’s lips hovered a few millimeters away from Patrick’s.

“Yes, please.”

And then Pete was kissing him. 

This handsome, smart, funny, flawed Adonis was currently kissing Patrick senseless, pulling Patrick’s full bottom lip into his own mouth.

Patrick wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

After a few minutes of incredible kissing that Patrick secretly wished would never end, Pete pulled his face back and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“I think we should move this into the bedroom, Mr. Stump - Wentz.”

Patrick grinned wickedly. “By all means, after you.”

***********************************

It was safe to say Patrick thoroughly enjoyed his view of Pete’s round,firm ass in his tight jeans striding with purpose into the bedroom.

He shed his socks, shoes, and shirt before he even hit the doorway.

‘Oh my.’ thought Patrick, mouth hanging open.

Pete turned and began walking backwards, pulling off his shorts and black boxer briefs.

As soon as his shins hit the bed frame, he casually fell back on the pillows.

With a mischievous smile on his face, he raised his arms above his head, allowing his husband to take in his entire naked form for the first time.

Patrick drank Pete in like a parched man in the middle of a desert with no oasis in sight.

“I’m getting lonely over here Mr. Stump-Wentz,” Patrick’s oasis said.

“Aren’t you going to join me?”

It was at that moment that all Patrick’s bravado flew out the open patio doors.

Patrick blushed and moved slowly towards the bed.

He turned his back to Pete and slowly removed his clothing, saving his shirt for last, taking a fortifying breath before pulling his it over his head.

Patrick couldn’t turn around.

He just hung his head, embarrassed and ashamed.

He wasn’t ready to face the look of disgust he was sure would be on Pete’s face the minute he saw Patrick naked.

He heard the bed squeak quietly.

Patrick was sure Pete had taken one look at him and was breaking all speed records to put his clothes back on.

But then, all of the sudden, there were two golden arms encircling his waist, pulling him back against a warm, hard body.

Patrick felt a warm breath on the back of his neck a second before an open mouthed tender kiss was placed there..

His eyes closed on their accord.

“Patrick, you are so gorgeous. Your skin is smooth and flawless. Your fair hair glows like a halo in the moonlight.”

He was so close to Pete, he could feel Pete’s heart rate begin to increase.

Pete pulled away from Patrick a fraction of an inch.

“And take it from your husband, you have a very sexy ass.”

Patrick couldn’t help it.

He began to giggle.

But while he was distracted, Pete managed to turn him around and begin to place kisses all over his face and neck.

“Let me love you, Patrick.”

Patrick nodded and allowed Pete to lead him to the bed.

Pete lay Patrick down gently on the bed, hovering over him on one arm.

Pete’s hand ran from Patrick’s bright red cheeks down his chest, over his stomach, dipping into his hip before landing on the top of Patrick’s thigh, very close to Patrick’s engorged cock.

Pete kissed his husband softly.

“Can I finger you open?”

Patrick, caught up in a wave of lust and want, could only nod.

Pete reached over his husband to the nightstand beside the bed.

When he pulled back, he tossed a condom on the bed beside him before opening the lube and spreading it liberally on his fingers.

“Tell me if you need me to stop. I never want to hurt you, Patrick.”

“Alright,” Patrick whispered.

Patrick couldn’t tear his eyes away from Pete as his new husband first rubbed his finger over his tight hole before slipping the digit in.

Pete,as a distraction, began playfully biting and sucking on the inside of Patrick’s thighs.

Patrick whimpered, not confident enough to tell Pete what he needed..

Pete, sensing his husband’s uneasiness, raised his head and took Patrick’s cock into his mouth, lightly sucking on the head.

His husband cried out in shock and delight - Pete knew exactly what he had wanted.

While Patrick was distracted Pete inserted another digit, crossing it over the first.

He felt around, trying to locate the spot that would make his husband cry out his name in ecstasy. 

When his fingers came in contact with the bump, he wriggled them back and forth over it several times.

Patrick’s hips flew up from the bed an inch, Pete’s name shouted from his lush lips.

Patrick then felt Pete insert a third finger, and he pushed back on them, readying himself for the sizeable girth of his husband.

“Pete,” Patrick pushed his husband gently off his cock.

He looked positively sinful with Patrick’s precum dripping from his bottom lip.

“Pete, now. I need you inside of me now.”

“Want to feel you so badly - please!”

Pete slid up Patrick’s body and gave him a dirty kiss as he rolled the condom down over his member, slicking it up with the remaining lube.

Pete pulled a pillow from beside Patrick’s head and placed it under his husband’s hips.

Pete took his cock in his hand and hovered at Patrick’s entrance.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

As a way to prove it to Pete, Patrick reached around Pete’s neck and pulled him into a soft, gentle, toe-tingling kiss.

“I am. Are you?”

Pete grinned as he pulled slightly away from his husband, slowly entering him one inch at a time until he had bottomed out.

Patrick was breathing erratically, causing Pete to try and hold as still as he possibly could.

After a minute or two, Patrick patted his husband’s back gently, a sign for Pete to start moving.

Pete slowly pulled back before gently pushing back in. 

Patrick was sure of it - he had died and gone to heaven.

Pete gradually became bolder, his thrusts became deeper and harder.

Patrick only wrapped his legs around Pete’s hips, burying his husband even further into himself. 

This action changed the angle for both of them, each getting pleasure from it. 

The entire time they were making love, Pete never took his eyes off Patrick’s face.

Eventually, however, Pete felt Patrick tighten up around him.

Pete reached between them and began stroking Patrick in time to his thrusts.

“Come for me Sugar. Scream as loud as you want.”

That was the tipping point for Patrick.

He threw his head back and screamed Pete’s name as his orgasm rocked through him, causing his body to clench around his husband’s cock.

Pete came a few seconds after Patrick, burying himself as deep as he could inside his husband as his orgasm hit.

For a few moments, all they could do was stare at each other in wonder and awe.

Pete gently kissed Patrick, rolled off of him, and disposed of the used condom.

Meanwhile Patrick had gotten rid of the pillow under his hips.

Pete turned over onto his side and stared at his content husband, who had one arm slung over his eyes.

Suddenly, Patrick heard the sound of Pete chuckling.

Patrick raised his arm and looked at Pete, frowning.

“And what is so funny?”

Pete rolled onto his back and began to laugh harder.

Patrick crossed his arms over his chest, becoming increasingly livid.

“And you called yourself a bossy bottom!” Pete said, giving his husband a gentle nudge with his arm.

Patrick tackled his husband, pinning him underneath him, trapping Pete’s wrists in Patrick’s hands above his head.

“Oh, I’m not through with you yet, Pete Wentz,” Patrick said mischievously as he slid down Pete’s body, eyes trained on his husband’s semi-hard cock.

“Promises, promises, Pete sighed.

************************************************************

After Patrick made good on his promise and rode Pete hard into the mattress, the couple made their way into the large rain shower where they stood under the water holding each other, letting their fingers memorize each distinct feature and curve of the other’s body.

Suddenly, an odd noise broke through the serenity of the lover’s private moment.

Both men looked at each other and started laughing.

“I hate to break this up Mr. Wentz, but I believe your stomach is about to file a formal protest against your body if it isn’t fed soon.”

Pete kissed Patrick gently. 

“All right, we’ll get out, but only if you kiss me first.”

Twenty minutes and two very satisfying soapy handjobs later, they were out of the shower and dressed in no time flat.

“Why don’t we go up to the main building today? Give me a chance to show off my handsome husband.”

Patrick picked up his fedora and planted it firmly on top of his head.

“Well, I don’t know who that guy is, but I’ll be happy to go up to eat with you.”

“Hardy har har. C’mon ‘Trick, before we miss anything good!”

********************

Pete and Patrick commented about the beauty of the Jamaican countryside as they rode together to the main building. 

Somewhere along the way, Pete had taken Patrick’s hand and opened a small ring box.

Inside was a simple gold band.

“I know it’s nothing fancy, but I’ll get you something better back in the U.S.,” Pete whispered, slightly embarrassed by his subpar gift to Patrick.

Patrick smiled widely as Pete slid the ring onto his ring finger on his left hand.

“No,” Patrick replied, “This one’s perfect.”

Pete smiled and kissed Patrick’s cheek.

*************************

Pete took great pride in showing Patrick around.

He took him to the best restaurant located in the main building, ordering lavish dishes for both of them to try.

They fed each other forkfuls of Jamaica’s finest foods, holding hands across the table while drinking fine wine from sparkling goblets.

The wine (and possibly Pete) made Patrick feel happy and adventurous. 

After much encouragement, Pete convinced Patrick to take part in a karaoke contest, in which Patrick dedicated a love song to his new husband.

Pete stared up at his lover, blowing kisses to him as the song ended.

Patrick was totally surprised when he won the crowd vote, earning an easy one hundred dollars.

Pete convinced him to take his winnings to the small casino located in a smaller building close by.

Patrick quickly lost twenty dollars, but sat dumbfounded as his husband not only won back the twenty, but made two hundred dollars extra playing blackjack.

“You’re amazing!” Patrick exclaimed, planting a wet kiss on his husband’s cheek.

Pete grinned at Patrick from the side of his mouth and leaned in to whisper in his lover’s ear.

“I can think of lots of ways you can thank me…”

Patrick lightly bit Pete’s earlobe.

“Meet me in the men’s room in five minutes.

Patrick sashayed away from Pete, making sure to swing his hips suggestively on his way to the bathroom.

Pete waited three minutes before hurrying after Patrick into the men’s room.

His new husband was nowhere in sight.

“Patrick?” Pete whispered while walking slowly past the stalls.

He yelped in surprise as Patrick grabbed his arm and yanked him into a nearby stall, slamming the door shut behind them.

Patrick immediately sunk to his knees in front of Pete, making quick work of the button and zipper hindering his progress in a quest to blow his husband.

He pulled out Pete’s cock and licked a broad stripe up the underside.

Pete drew in a deep shuddering breath.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

Before Pete could answer, Patrick had swallowed him down whole, deepthroating him quick and dirty while jacking himself off at the same time.

Pete grabbed Patrick’s hair and tried to pull him further onto his cock.

Pete whimpered as Patrick lightly dragged his teeth up his tender member.

Patrick looked up at him, spit hanging from his swollen pink lips.

“Are you going to come, are you waiting for an engraved invitation?” Patrick whispered.

“And don’t pull my hair!”

Pete only lasted a few more minutes, coming down his husband’s throat at the sight of Patrick’s face buried in his crotch.

Patrick’s hand sped up, and he was coming a few seconds later.

Patrick kissed Pete’s dick and tucked it back in his shorts, rezipping and rebuttoning.

He then stood up and wiped his hands off on toilet tissue before straightening himself out.

“Let’s wash up. I’ve worked up quite an appetite. I hope dinner is good..”

Pete just wandered dazedly behind his husband, mimicking his actions.

****************************************

They had a lovely dinner on the beach, complete with a beautiful Jamaican sunset over the clear blue ocean.

Patrick stared at Pete, who was talking about how excited his family would be to meet him.

He didn’t know how he felt about his husband of three and a half days.

Pete was everything Patrick had dreamed of in a partner - smart, sexy, witty, charming, kind.

But Patrick had to keep reminding himself it was all just a ruse, a subterfuge played upon Pete’s parents until after the family dinner.

That would be when Patrick was ten thousand dollars richer.

Patrick would also, unfortunately, be a million times more lonely.

In the short time Patrick had known him, Pete had stormed the iron gates he had set up around his heart and was now taking it from him, piece by piece.

In short, Patrick was falling in love. 

With Pete.

His soon-to-be ex-husband.

Damn it all.

Patrick was so screwed.

Pete’s hand was caressing his cheek.

“Did you hear me? Yes or no?”

Patrick put his inner turmoil aside, determined to enjoy what little time he had left with Pete.

“I asked if you would dance with me?” Pete said, hope shining in his eyes.

“I would love to,” Patrick said as he stood and took his husband’s hand.

They began swaying to the music from the main building that could barely be heard above the lapping of the waves. 

Patrick thought back to the picture on the advertisement.

Yes, this was definitely paradise.

And for now, that was enough.

***************************************************

For the next three days, Pete and Patrick stuck to a pretty regular schedule.

It went something like this:  
Wake each other up with blow jobs.  
Shower together with a strong possibility of hand jobs.  
Get dressed.  
Lay out and tan on the beach.  
Make love on the lounge chairs.  
Take another shower.  
Get dressed and head up to the Main House.  
Lunch, then new activities  
Find a remote, random place for a quickie  
Dinner and dancing  
Ripping each other’s clothes off and falling into bed, followed by slow, lazy lovemaking.  
Falling asleep in each other’s arms.

On their last day at the resort, Patrick was woken by a brisk breeze blowing over his naked body.

He turned and reached for Pete, but found the other side of the bed empty.

Patrick knew Pete had trouble sleeping at times, so he got out of bed, pulled on his underwear and wandered into the living room.

He wasn’t there.

Patrick found him on a lounger out on the beach, whispering into his cell phone.

“I know...I am...Yes, Yes, it will be fine...I’m doing the best I can. Me too. See you soon. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Patrick asked casually, even though his heart was beating faster than hummingbird’s wings.

Pete just quickly tucked away his phone in his backpack and grabbed his husband’s hand, pulling Patrick into his lap.

“And good morning to you, too. That was a friend, making sure I was surviving out here alright.”

“And are you surviving?” Patrick asked playfully while tracing Pete’s bartskull tattoo with his fingertip.

Patrick gasped as he was flipped onto his back.

Pete straddled him and looked over his body as if he were the last slice of pizza on Earth.

“I’m not sure yet - I think more data is needed…”

Patrick only sighed as Pete slowly began sliding his hand down Patrick’s body.

He was willing to make sacrifices for the sake of science…

**********************************************

When Pete and Patrick finally got out of the shower (mutual soapy hand jobs, they both decided, were nothing short of spectacular) they got dressed and went into the living room.

Patrick turned on a home improvement show, which barely held his attention. 

Pete, however, became deeply involved in something on his cell phone. 

His hands were moving so fast. it was fair for Patrick to assume Pete was texting.

But who was he texting?

And why was his face becoming darker and darker with each passing minute?

Patrick bit his lip and turned back to the television.

He hoped Pete’s mood lightened before dinner.

*********

Patrick’s hopes were dashed when Pete yelled, “Aren’t you ready yet? Jeezaloo!” from the living room as he dressed for dinner.

Call Patrick sentimental, but the romantic in him wanted to look extra nice for Pete tonight. 

He wanted his soon-to-be ex-husband to continue to think of him when they parted the next day.

The same way Patrick would, by this point, be completely unable to forget about Pete Wentz.

Patrick scurried out of the room, placing his hat at a jaunty angle on his head.

He smiled brightly at Pete, who scowled at him.

“You’re gonna make us late.”

Pete opened the door for Patrick and shooed him out, encouraging him to walk faster to the golf cart.

The whole ride to the lodge Pete remained silent, his thoughts seeming to be preoccupied by something (or someone) other than Patrick.

‘Stop it,’ Patrick scolded himself. ‘He’s not Gabe!’

Patrick tried to start a conversation several times, but Pete would only grunt or give one word answers.

Patrick quit trying and watched the scenery as it passed by.

*********************

Once at the lodge, it was if a different Pete had emerged. 

He held out his hand to help Patrick down from the golf cart, and held his hand all the way to the nightclub.

Patrick had no idea this would be their destination tonight, and was pleased Pete would pick a new place for them to experience before they left.

Pete led Patrick to a table near the dance floor, where he pulled out his husband’s chair before leaning down and whispering in his ear.

“What’s your poison, Sugar?”

“Whiskey Sour, please. On the rocks.”

Pete brushed his hand along Patrick’s chin.

“Anything for you…”

Patrick watched Pete walk away, hips and ass looking especially wonderful encased in low slung black leather pants.

Patrick looked up at the DJ’s booth, which was located on a platform behind the dance floor.

He watched in fascination as the DJ flipped records this way and that before placing them on a turntable and weaving his musical magic.

Patrick had always had a soft spot for music. He had inherited it from his father.

Too bad he inherited his father’s bald spot, too.

Patrick looked down at his watch and realized that thirty minutes had gone by, and Pete had yet to return.

Patrick began searching the club for an incredibly sexy man in tight leather pants and a tight white t-shirt, oozing machismo.

He soon located his husband.

He was still in the tight leather pants and a white t-shirt.

What Patrick didn’t expect to find was his husband/lover to be seated at the bar, deeply French kissing a bottle dyed blonde with big tits.

Said woman was currently pushing up the bottom of Pete’s shirt with one hand, her other hand casually tracing the bartskull tattoo.

Every time she made the lopsided oval her hand got closer and closer to the waistband of Pete’s pants.

His low-slung pants.

‘You stupid idiot - he’s EXACTLY like Gabe.’

“Shut the fuck up, Patrick muttered to himself.

Patrick tossed back the rest of his drink before making his way to the bar, tapping Pete on the shoulder once there.

“Fuck off,” Pete said over his shoulder through lipstick-stained lips.

Patrick moved around in front of the spectacle he would rather not be a part of.

“Excuse me, Pete, may I speak to you in private please?”

The blonde floozy with her skirt riding up her thigh every time she moved turned to look down her nose at Patrick.

“Who the hell is this, Petey?”

‘Petey? What the fuck?’ Patrick seethed.

Pete looked at Patrick for a split second, then turned back to the girl. 

“He’s just a friend from the States. I’ll catch you later, ‘Trick.”

Patrick blinked his eyes quickly, trying to will away the tears.

“But Pete…”

Pete turned his face towards Patrick, the full force of his scorn and ridicule hitting Patrick like a tidal wave.

“This is none of your fucking business. Now piss off.”

Patrick was stunned into silence.

Pete had taken the rubble from Gabe which surrounded Patrick’s heart and made a bullet out of it.

Then he had aimed the bullet at the dead center of Patrick’s chest.

Pete turned back and slid his hand up the girl’s skirt, thus firing the shot that totally shattered what remained of Patrick Stump’s heart.

Patrick turned away and walked quickly towards the golf carts.

On the drive back, Patrick came to one conclusion.

It was nobody’s fault but his own.

He decided to man up and accept the consequences of his actions.

He got (fake) married, fell in love, and had his heart irreplaceably shattered.

All for the bargain price of ten thousand dollars.

‘What a catch,’ he thought, recalling a lyric of one of his favorite songs.

Jamaica was Paradise, just not for Patrick Stump..

************************************************************* 

Patrick opened the door to their hut and walked to the bedroom in order to get his shit together as fast as possible.

He was leaving on the first possible mode of transportation out of here.

Patrick jerked the drawer open, grabbing all his clothes from the drawer and dumping them in his suitcase.

Pete stormed in shortly after him, lipstick still clinging to the collar of his shirt, and, if Patrick looked close enough, he could swear on the fly of Pete’s pants.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” 

Patrick calmly kept filling his suitcase.

“I didn’t fuck her, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist.” Pete smirked.

Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“I don’t care what you did with her. It’s not my business, right?”

Pete stared at him for a minute, mouth hanging wide open.

“Wait - you didn’t REALLY think we were going to stay together, did you? This is not Fantasyland, Patrick.”

Patrick swung around to face Pete, fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“And you sure as hell aren’t Peter Pan, no matter what people may tell you.” 

Patrick looked at Pete, discovering he was tired.

Patrick had grown tired of losing.

At everything.

“I’m going home, away from you.” 

“You don’t have a home, remember?” Pete sneered triumphantly.

Patrick took a deep breath and counted to three.

“I’ll find somewhere to go.”

“You won’t get the money if you leave. You’ll be breaking our oral agreement.” Pete said smugly.

Patrick marched up toe to toe with Pete.

“I don’t want your money. I don’t want your name. And I certainly don’t want you.” 

“All you are is a spoiled narcissist who’s bat-shit crazy and has commitment issues.”

Pete narrowed his eyes and leaned down into Patrick’s face.

“And you are a short, fat, balding failure at life who will never find anyone to love you.”

Patrick recoiled as though Pete had slapped him.

He turned around and silently finished packing.

When he was through he slid the once-treasured wedding band off his finger, placing it on the nightstand.

“So that’s it then? Gonna just add me to your list of failures?” Pete goaded.

Patrick walked past Pete, suitcase in hand.

He opened the front door and took one last look at his soon-to-be ex-husband.

Pete then decimated the last remaining piece of their “marriage”. 

“I lied to you, you know. About everything. My family owns this resort and they wanted me to marry a guy and parade him around the main building so people would know we were LGBTQ friendly.” 

“Hell, I’m not even bisexual.”

Without even a backwards glance, Patrick quietly replied.

“Fuck you, Pete.”

“Forget my name. Permanently.”

As Patrick shut the door, he had a sickening feeling of deja vu.

*********************************************************

Patrick caught the midnight bus from the resort back to the airport, where he stayed up all night waiting for a seven a.m. departure back to the States.

He sat beside a lovely young grandmother, who showed him photos of all her grandchildren.

She admitted quietly proudly that she loved to dote over them.

Patrick smiled woodenly and nodded his head, the whole time wracking his brain for anywhere he could stay temporarily.

As soon as he landed in Chicago, he called his best friend from high school.

Andy was a real stand-up guy, straight-edge as they come.

He answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“May I please speak to Andrew Hurley? It’s-”

“Patrick? Patrick Stump from high school drumline? How’re they hanging, my man?”

Patrick covered the cell phone with his hand while he tried to get his sobs under control.

“Patrick, it’s going to be all right. Tell me where you are.”

******************************************************************************************

Five Years Later

“Penny! Penny!! Finish your business and let’s go back inside. It’s freezing out here…”

Patrick buried his face in his scarf to emphasize his point.

He was so pissed at that little ball of fur right now.

But he loved her to death.

******

He’d seen her at a dog adoption fair in the park last fall.

She had come out of her corner in her temporary cage to approach him.

Patrick bent down and scratched the petite dog behind the ear.

As a thank you, the dog timidly gave Patrick’s hand a timid lick.

That was the day.

The day Patrick Stump’s heart had begun to knit itself back together.

They complimented each other perfectly.

Penny gave Patrick a reason to come out of his shell and be more sociable, and Patrick gave Penny the home she needed in order to go out and explore the world.

It was a love/love relationship.

Penny kicked her little feet up behind her, sending little puffs of snow flying.

“C’mon, Penny Girl, let’s go home and get warm.”

***********************************************************************

Patrick let Penny in the front door of the three bedroom house he rented out in the suburbs of Chicago. 

It was spacious but cozy. 

There was a large living room with a fireplace, a kitchen with a sun porch, a master bedroom, a home office, and a music room.

Every Saturday evening his best friend Andy and a new guy Andy had met named Joe came over to his house to have an informal jam session before ordering pizza and settling into Patrick’s sectional couch to watch a couple of episodes of Game of Thrones.

One night, Patrick looked over at Andy and Joe during a particularly gory battle taking place on the screen.

His eyes fell on the small space between the other men.

There, in the middle of that small space, Andy and Joe’s pinkies were intertwined.

Patrick looked down at Penny on his lap, trying his hardest to swallow the lump in his throat.

‘It was five years ago, Patrick. You need to move on. Find someone else. Someone better.’

But Patrick didn’t want anyone better.

He still, after everything that had happened, wanted Pete Wentz.

Not the Pete Wentz, he had come to discover who was heir to a real estate empire.

Not the Pete Wentz who had been in and out of trouble the past few years.

Not thePete Wentz who had been rumoured to be fucking every supermodel, both male and female.

That wasn’t the Pete Wentz he wanted.

He wanted the Pete Wentz that held him tight after gently making love to him, whispering sweet words on gentle ocean breezes..

He wanted the Pete Wentz that would smile like a jack-o-lantern every time he came in the room.

He wanted the Pete Wentz that treated him, for a brief second of time, like he was something special.

But it was impossible.

Patrick knew deep in his heart the two vastly different Pete Wentzes could never be reconciled.

Patrick stroked Penny’s soft fur, letting his mind drift back into the plotline of Game of Thrones. 

************************************************************************************

The next week, Patrick, along with Penny, was sitting in his home office finishing up some medical transcriptions when his cell phone chimed.

He finished the last transcription before picking up the cell phone.

A - Hey Buddy! We on for Saturday?

P - Hell yeah!

A - Listen, I know you are wary of strangers and all, but Joe knows this guy who can play a pretty decent bass. We were wondering if we could bring him along.

Patrick frowned deeply.

He didn’t want to be rude to his best friend in the world, the one that had helped him climb out of the hole he had put himself in five years ago.

P - Fine. But Andy, I swear if this is some kind of romantic set-up I will have your balls for breakfast Sunday morning.

A - Ouch. Not a nice thought. I swear it isn’t a set-up; Joe’s friend has really been having a tough time as of late, and we just wanted to take his mind off of it a little while.

P - Sorry for assuming. That’s fine - the more the merrier. See you at 4 p.m.!

A - Thanks - You’re a stand up guy.

Pete smiled down at his phone. Andy had been with him through good times, and bad - it was the least he could do, welcoming Joe’s downtrodden friend into his home.

**********************************************************************************************

The doorbell rang Saturday at exactly 4:00.

Patrick rolled his eyes; he could set a clock by his best friend’s punctuality.

“Hang on a sec!” Patrick shouted as he glanced through the screen door out to the heated sun porch, making sure Penny had enough food, toys, and piddle pads to last her a little while.

He heard “Shave and a haircut” being knocked on his door, followed by the sound of muffled laughter.

Patrick rapped two times before opening the door to greet his company.

“Ha ha very funny Andy.”

“It wasn’t me, I swear! It was Joe!”

Joe shook his head adamantly.

“You’ve got the wrong guy,” Joe said as he pointed over his shoulder.

“It was Pete!”

Patrick’s world narrowed exponentially to this small 4 foot by 4 foot space in front of his entry door.

Surely it couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be the same Pete.

Not his Pete.

Joe and Andy stepped apart, revealing a short man with long dull dark hair that was graying at the temples. 

He had eyes that were plagued by dark circles, revealing numerous late nights.

He was dressed in a long sleeved hoodie and the most atrocious pair of sweatpants Patrick had ever seen.

The tattoos on his arms, revealed by pushed up sleeves, looked dull and washed out.

“Hello, ‘Trick.” Pete said quietly.

Patrick couldn’t stop staring.

After a few seconds of awkward silence, Andy cleared his throat.

Patrick shook his head a bit to snap himself out of his daze.

“How rude of me, making all of you stand out in the cold like that! Please, come in.”

Andy stepped in first, followed by Joe, then finally Pete.

“It’s good to see you, Patrick.” Pete whispered, daring to reach his fingertips out to brush Patrick’s hand, but pulling back at the last minute for fear of backlash.

Patrick nodded his head. 

“Yes, yes.”

Then he turned to face all his guests.

“Gentlemen, let the jamming commence!”

Andy and Joe playfully shoved each other down the hall leading to the music room.

Pete followed, with Patrick bringing up the rear.

Patrick took that time to study Pete. 

Gone was the cocky attitude, the confident swagger and the live or die trying attitude.

He shuffled along, hunching his shoulders as if he wanted no one to notice him.

He wore oversized sunglasses on his head, as if he wanted to cut himself off (if only temporarily) from the world.

He gingerly placed his guitar bag on the floor in the far corner of the room, as if it was the thing he held nearest and dearest to his heart.

Pete pulled out his red bass, complete with bartheart emblem.

He began to gently pull at the strings, putting his ear down and slowly tuning the bass, as if becoming one with it.

Patrick had never been more jealous of a musical instrument in his life.

Pete quickly glanced up and caught Patrick’s eye.

Patrick gasped quietly and turned to grab his favorite guitar, making sure it was in tune. 

Patrick closed his eyes and counted to three before turning around.

“Let’s start with something simple. Mother by Danzig. Count us off, Andy.”

Patrick closed his eyes and got lost in the music, allowing the three other men to choose which songs to play for the rest of the session.

************************************************************************************

Patrick had retreated to his master bathroom the minute after the pizza had been ordered.

His guests were currently lounging on the sectional, drinking sodas and munching on chips.

Patrick finished his business and washed his hands.

He gripped the edge of the counter so hard, his knuckles turned white.

Five years.

Five long years.

Of crying, bad luck, despair, and therapy.

Of working two jobs while putting himself through night school.

Of enjoying his job and his free time he kept full of exercise and meditation.

Finally reaching contentment.

Or so he thought.

There was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Patrick? You okay in there?” Andy asked in a low tone so he couldn’t be heard in the living room.

Patrick let go of the counter and opened the door, allowing Andy to enter.

Andy took one look at Patrick’s pale face and frowned.

“What is it? Tell me.”

Patrick knew he was thinking back to the time Patrick had called him from the L.

Andy had listened in as his best friend calmly debated with himself on whether or not to throw himself in front of the fastly approaching train.

Andy never, ever wanted to get another call like that again in his life.

Patrick said one word.

“Pete.”

Andy furrowed his brows and stared at Patrick, trying to riddle out what he was trying to tell him.

Suddenly, it hit Andy like a ton of bricks.

Andy quietly shut the door.

“That’s him? That;s the asshole who treated you like shit in Jamaica and left you broken in a million pieces?

Andy punched his palm. 

“When I get through with him, he’ll be missing so many teeth he won’t be able to say the name Patrick Stump.”

Patrick laid a gentle hand on Andy’s forearm.

“I appreciate you wanting to defend my honor, but do I have to remind you you are vehemently opposed to violence of any sort?”

“In this case I’ll make an exception,” Andy snarled.

Patrick patted Andy and shook his head.

“It was just fate, Andy. No one knew that Pete was THE Pete Wentz.”

Patrick glanced at himself in the mirror, seeing a strong, independent man far wiser than he was five years ago.

He turned back to Andy.

“And what if this is Pete and my one chance to make it right?”

“Don’t tell me you'd consider seeing him again!” Andy hissed.

Patrick shrugged.

“I’m not saying that.”

“I’m just saying there’s so much hatred out in the world already, that maybe this is our chance to rid the world of just a tiny portion of that hate.”

Andy thought for a moment, then pulled Patrick into a gigantic bear hug. 

“I’m proud of you, Kohai.”

Thanks, Senpai.”

****************************************************************************************

Patrick and Andy emerged from the master bedroom just as the doorbell rang.

“Pizza must be here! I’ll get it, it's my turn to pay!” Andy said as he ran to the front door.

Joe and Pete came out of the corner by the fireplace, where they had been quietly whispering.

“Guys, Pete’s gotta jet. He’s got some things to get done at home.”

“It was nice to meet you Pete,” said Andy.

Patrick could tell by the look on Andy’s face he was holding himself back.

But barely.

Joe helped Andy carry the pizza to the coffee table as Patrick walked Pete to the front door.

Pete’s sunglasses were on his face, even though the sun was just a distant memory in the wake of the winter moon.

“Goodbye Patrick. I’m sorry I intruded on your life like this. I swear I had no idea it was you Joe was talking about.”

Patrick held out his hand for Pete to shake.

“You don’t have to leave. We have more than enough to offer. I would like it if you stayed…”

Pete gently pushed Patrick’s hand back down to his side.

“Thank you, but that is the exact reason why I need to go.”

Pete then turned on his heel and walked out of Patrick’s front door, gently closing it behind him.

*********************************************************************

Patrick shook his head and turned slightly away from his door.

Out of his front window, he could see Pete struggling to get his frozen car door open.

Suddenly, Patrick saw red. 

He charged out of the house without a coat in his short sleeves and stocking feet out into the snow.

Pete turned to look at Patrick.

“I’ll get it in a minute, it just sticks sometimes.”

Patrick stood in Pete’s face, huffing and puffing, so mad he could spit nails.

“You - you think this is about your inability to open a car door?”

“Are you that dense?”

“Is that all you have to say to me?” 

“After everything that we went through five years ago?”

“All I get is sorry and goodbye?”

Patrick shook with anger as he waited for Pete to do something.

Do anything.

Pete’s face was mostly hidden by his sunglasses.

Those stupid, oversized, ugly-ass sunglasses.

Patrick reached out and jerked the sunglasses off of Pete’s face, throwing them in a nearby snowbank.

Pete looked at Patrick with tear stained eyes.

“What do you want me to say, Patrick?” 

“That I’m sorry?”

“ That I was the world’s biggest asshole to you?” 

“That I let the one good thing that has ever happened to me in my life walk away because I was scared?”

Pete’s voice rose in anger.

“That you had every right to leave me after the shit I pulled?” 

“That I put you through?”

“That I was scared shitless because I had never fallen in love before, and I suddenly found myself hopelessly in love with a man who acted as if I hung the moon and stars?”

Pete shook his head and lowered his voice.

“That you had every right to leave me?” 

“That I didn’t mean one single solitary word I said when I called you all of those stupid, horrible names?”

“That after you left I took a long hard look in the mirror and realized for the first time in my life that the one who was unloveable was me ?

Pete stood in front of Patrick in the middle of the street, snow all around, his heart and emotions laid bare for the world to see. 

“When the front door opened and I saw you, I swear I would have cut up my heart for you to wear right then if you wanted it.”

Patrick stood frozen in the snow, processing everything he had just heard.

Everything he had waited five years to hear.

This man in front of him.

This man, who had just poured his heart and soul out to Patrick, was Pete Wentz.

Patrick’s Pete Wentz.

Patrick lunged for Pete, pulling him in for the most bone-crushing hug he could manage.

He pulled back to stare into Pete’s eyes.

“I’m sorry too.” 

“For everything.” 

“I was so scared of what was waiting for me back home that I let it blind me to the most important thing I had ever felt.”

“Love.”

“When I saw you in the nightclub it broke me.”

“But I didn’t mean any of the cruel things I said to you either.”

“I was just really hurt.”

“I’m sorry I just disappeared.” 

“I wanted to forget you, but in the process all I could remember was how good we were together.”

Pete studied Patrick’s face thoughtfully for a moment.

“You’ve grown a beard.”

Patrick laughed and wiped away his tears.

“And you, Mr. Wentz, are going grey,” Patrick said as he reached up and tenderly touched Pete’s sideburns.

Pete placed a hand on the back of Patrick’s neck, pulling him in cautiously.

“Is this okay?” Pete whispered, only a hair’s width between their lips.

“What do you think?” Patrick whispered before capturing Pete’s lips in a searing kiss.

About that time, Andy and Joe walked by holding hands, a pizza box in tow.

“I think it’s safe to leave you two alone now.” Joe said, dragging Andy away from the kissing couple.

Patrick waved goodbye to them over Pete’s shoulder, never breaking the kiss.

When the neighbors began to applaud and cat-call, Patrick dragged Pete back into the house.

Patrick shut the door and turned around, kissing Pete once more.

Just then, a tiny “Yip” was heard from the kitchen.

Patrick pulled Pete in that direction.

“Come on, I want you to meet my dog.”

“Don’t you mean our dog?” Pete said sheepishly?

Patrick frowned. “Pete, what on Earth are you talking about?”

“Well, remember that marriage certificate I thought wouldn’t be recognized in America?”

Patrick opened his mouth to speak, but before anything came out Pete laid a finger on his lips.

He silently picked up Patrick’s left hand and slid the wedding band Patrick had left in Jamaica on his finger.

“Til death do us part, Mr. Stump - Wentz.”

fin.

EPILOGUE

Three Years Later

Patrick smiled as he looked up from the book he was reading.

His husband had been frolicking in the water with their dogs, but he was now walking slowly towards Patrick’s lounger.

The hair on his head and his chest had become grayer, his abs less defined, the crows feet by his eyes a little deeper.

But Pete’s eyes still twinkled with mischief as he slowly crawled up to lay himself on top of his husband of eight years.

(Actually, they had been Unbeknownst-to-them husbands for 5 years, choosing to remarry in a civil ceremony three years later.)

Patrick sputtered and threw his book on the other lounger as his husband shook his long, shining hair, causing water to spray all over Patrick.

“Pete! You're getting me all wet!”

Pete only wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Patrick slapped Pete’s shoulder gently before leaning in for a kiss.

Patrick pulled back smiling, his eyes drawn to their two dogs by the water’s edge.

“Hemmy! Get away from Penny right now! I’m sure she doesn’t appreciate that one bit!”

Patrick turned his eyes back to his husband and pouted.

“Honestly, Mr. Wentz, can’t you control that beast of yours?”

Pete leered at Patrick and stood up, grabbing Patrick’s hand and dragging him towards the bedroom.

“Come on, Mr. Stump - Wentz. I need your assistance to get my “beast” under control.”

Patrick just laughed and rolled his eyes as his husband laid him back gently on the big, comfy bed.

Patrick had a job he loved, a dog that he doted on, and a husband that adored him.

Patrick had been partially wrong.

Jamaica hadn’t been Paradise before.

But it had allowed him to create his own personal Paradise.

totalement fini.


End file.
